Thursday, 31 January 2013

Factory

It
was a tedious job of course. Monday mornings staring at a conveyor
belt, as I ran me eyes over products faa defects, faults and
imperfections. I worked with a large workforce on da 1st and
2nd floors; arms - legs – torsos - da head floor quality
control. The structural work - bone, arteries, innards
etcetera, where manufactured on da 2nd floor. The detail was added
by hundreds of technicians downstairs da 3rd floor.

The building shuddered out pinky
plastic in vacuum packs, thousands pumped out efficiently all day
everyday, vibrating white-brick walls, racket nauseous twelve
hours a day.

Ehh Meself balding Bob, I got almost
ecstatic when I spot flaw rolling passed me eyes, a perversion in da
day always rises a smile: Two-limbs, three-legs warped together, a
melted torso or too - a polymorphic mannequin if I'm lucky. Automatic
cycle continuous like me dripping nose an all-round flu. But am home
fa six, bed at ten, up at seven to began again.

Marko look at him! Same soppy grin on
his greasy face, on da mop on Wednesday; He not me...I'm still on dung heap across da floor. He's a lucky sod, a therapeutic job no
doubt moping up gore, lapping it across da huge floor, to a fine
gleam. Eh ah he was a good lad though. His blue overalls, ruddy
cherry colour by end of da day.

Thursday I would see Her arrive, me
heart revolving every time, two years everytime. She surveyed all
floors clipboard in hand, smiling, yes smiling! We share a coffee
most Friday's, making me week. I haven’t a chance, eh but I don't
care.

I swear I can hear an angry buzz from
that bureaucratic hive in da basement with it's irate mangers dim
under inane co-worker chitterchatter-chattering on are upper
floors. Revolving life as them long convener belts rolled out da
mannequin's made flesh. Every day ... everyday.